


Hiccups

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Modern [8]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: The apartment building sometimes floods but the neighbors are okay.





	Hiccups

**Hiccups**

**-**

Stormfly immediately began screeching at the sight of a guest in the apartment. “Stranger danger! Stranger danger!”

“Hush!” Astrid hissed at the bird, dropping her basket of sopping clothes on the kitchen floor before crossing through to the living room. To the neighbor following apprehensively, she cringed and said, “Sorry. She’s our alarm system.”

“S’okay,” the guy— Hiccup— replied, lifting a brow at Stormfly’s cage. He stood on the kitchen tile, holding his dripping sneakers in his hand. Now that they weren’t in the dim hallway light, she could see that one of his feet was a prosthesis. “That makes her at least 75% more useful than my cat.”

“But about three times louder,” she muttered. Beckoning him forward, she hurried towards Ruff’s closed door. “My roommate’s room is this way. Her twin is kind of homeless. He house hops. So she’s got a box of his stuff in here somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup nodded, setting down his wet shoes before he followed her into Ruffnut’s space. He was tall, taller than her by a head, but slender enough that she didn’t feel intimidated by his presence. And he had a quirky, friendly personality that made her feel okay being alone in her apartment with him. This was the first time she’d spoken to him since he moved in a week ago, and half of their conversation was apologies. “I’ll wash em and bring em back. Y’know. After they reopen the laundry room.”

Astrid winced. “Again. Very sorry.” She had to step over clothes and food wrappers and other oddities to reach her roommate’s closet. “That machine doesn’t lock that well, but it’s my lucky number. I’ve used it since we moved in.”

“Four?”

“Yeah. It’s my jersey number, apartment number, the last four digits of my cell…” After unearthing Tuffnut’s half-crushed box of things, she dug until she found a pair of pants and a shirt that wasn’t stained or ripped. “Here. He’s a little bit shorter than you, but not that much wider in the hips.”

Not that she was noticing his narrow hipbones peaking out from above the waistband of his sweatpants.

Hiccup accepted the clothes with a mocking salute. She directed him towards the bathroom and then kicked Tuff’s box back into the dark depths of his sister’s closet. Hopefully the jeans would fit— she felt awful about him not being able to wash his clothes for whatever appointment it was he had to attend.

Her answer came a moment later. Hiccup stepped out of the bathroom in Tuffnut’s pants— a couple of inches short— tugging his own shirt back over his pale stomach. She caught a glimpse of a bronze happy trail before his tee slipped back into place.

“Does he also keep his weed in that box?” Her new neighbor exclaimed, holding the shirt out towards her. “I’m pretty sure I got the munchies just from trying this on.”

Astrid took it and brought it to her nose, instantly flinching. “Oh. Gods. Yeah, definitely Tuff’s. Sorry.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” Hiccup sighed easily, rubbing the back of his neck. His crooked grin was comforting and a little gap-toothed. “I’ll just cycle shirts until the rest of my stuff arrives. I’ve always wanted to know what being a hobo smells like.”

“Tuff, you bum!” Stormfly screamed.

Another wave of guilt squeezed her chest. “No, wait.”

Astrid dropped the t-shirt on the couch and crossed the apartment. Her room wasn’t in its best state, what with her piles of laundry sorted on the floor. But it was spotless compared to Ruff’s. After some searching, she found what she was looking for and brought it back out.

“Here,” she told him, holding out the shirt. “It’s from a 5k I did last year— they always give out shirts that swallow me.” Folding her arms in front of her chest, she watched him unfold and inspect the green cotton. “It’s got the logo on the back, but the front is blank. If you wear a jacket, no one should notice.”

“Huh,” he answered, a note of pleased surprise in his voice. He dragged off his own shirt, and she got another flash of his chest and stomach. When he pulled her shirt over his head, she realized that the color matched his suddenly very green eyes. “Hey, it fits!”

“Perfect!”

She ended up cuffing the jeans for him before he left. Something like nervous excitement jolted in her fingers as she brushed his legs, both prosthetic and real. Luckily the extra bagginess and the cuff made the misfitting pants look like intentional style. After apologizing profusely and giving him the other six digits of her phone number— just in case— she was able to see him out and then strip out of her own wet pajama pants.

Later that night, Ruffnut dangled a Gobber’s Garage t-shirt in front of her face and demanded to know what male had been in their apartment. She snatched the shirt without a proper answer and held it to her chest defensively. It smelled like men’s deodorant, leather, and a faint body odor.

“Astrid has the hiccups!” Stormfly flapped in her cage. “Astrid has the hiccups!”

Stranger danger indeed.


End file.
